I Will Run to You
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: (Currently on hiatus. I sincerely apologize for the delay in updates.) Shay and Dawson switch places in the ambulance crash of 1x10 and 1x11. This fic is an exploration of how Shay, Casey, and the rest of Firehouse 51 would react to Dawson being hospitalized.
1. Chapter 1

Title: I Will Run to You (1/?)

Author: fais2688

Warnings: Spoilers for 1x10 and 1x11, as well as AU during and after the crash.

Summary: Shay and Dawson switch places in the ambulance crash of 1x10 and 1x11. This fic is an exploration of how Shay, Casey, and the rest of Firehouse 51 would react to Dawson being hospitalized.

Author's Note: For the most part, I've kept the scenes that were in the show nearly exactly the same (with the exception of switching out Shay with Dawson and Severide with Casey), but there are some changes. Most of the dialogue used in the scenes that were taken from the show is kept word for word, though I have taken some creative license at certain points. I hope no one minds. Please enjoy!

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Matthew Casey stared around at the drab, off-white room and tried not to think about her. He tried to ignore the memories that were tugging at his consciousness, pulling his mind in unproductive directions. There was one person and one person only he should be focusing on right now: his mother.

However, it seemed like any time he let his mind wander—even for the shortest moment—Dawson was there, waiting for him on that spiral staircase with shock and embarrassment flaring on her face on her face. With the hurt flashing through her eyes, hurt that caused her gaze to avert his for the rest of the uncomfortably strained night.

He could still remember how soft the skin of her cheek had felt against his lips.

_"It's not a good time."_

Casey ran a hand through his hair, digging his fingernails into his scalp and attempting to forget the haunting memories. He had thought at the time that kissing her on the cheek had been the best avenue—it wasn't a full-on kiss, not that much commitment, but it was enough to show her that he wanted her.

_Wasn't it?_

He had been so scatterbrained during that Christmas party, he wouldn't have believed his own preoccupation if it hadn't already been haunting him for days on end. He had known he should have been paying attention while he met Dawson's aunts and uncles, her grandparents, her cousins… Maybe one day they would be important members of his life, too. He should get to know them. But even when he was discussing his job with her ever-curious aunt, his mind kept drifting. To his mother. To the prison. To the guilt and fear that gripped him every time he thought about what would happen if he wasn't convincing enough at her parole hearing. Christie had the investigation to back her up: her mother was dangerous and should not be allowed back into ordinary society. What did he have? He loved his mother. That's all his defense was built on; all it _could _be built on.

He knew he should've been intent on Dawson when they entered that room alone, but he couldn't help that his mind was still whirring forward in time, worrying over what Christie would say and what he would have to say in return. Would his arguments ever win out over hers? And who did he _really_ side with? He shut his eyes. He was doing it again. He couldn't be thinking about these things; they would drive him insane. …But what else did he have to think about?

_"I mean… Are we just here as friends or… Is this a date?"_

He knew now that he couldn't have handled that moment more terribly. All she had wanted was for him to kiss her—a completely acceptable expectation, considering the length of their friendship and the nature of the night—but he hadn't been able to do it. He couldn't stop thinking about his mother and her parole hearing and what he was going to do and had to do, regardless of the verdict… He knew he would regret it later if he started something with Dawson when he was so horribly preoccupied.

But would it _really _have been so hard for him to kiss her like she'd wanted him to?

It wasn't like he _hadn't_ wanted to kiss her. He _had_—badly.

Ever since that moment they'd had together, alone, last week in her kitchen, he hadn't stopped thinking about how her. About how close her lips had been to his and how much he'd had to resist the urges he'd felt when looking at her. He had realized for the first time that night that he wanted her—and that what he _wanted _was to do _more _than kiss her. He wanted to do everything with her, he wanted to make up for the last few years of what he now knew must've been a strained friendship on her part. He wondered then, unattached as he was, how he had ever reallyseen her as _just_ a friend. The way she was looking at him now made it clear that she had something more than friendship on her mind, and, meeting her eyes, he couldn't argue that he was thinking about something more, too.

He'd been both relieved and angry when Severide's text had came in, interrupting the silence, interrupting the tension and anticipation of that almost-kiss… Now all he felt was regret. For that moment and for what had happened in her cousin's library a week later. There had been so many missed opportunities between the two of them, and when he'd been handed a chance to rectify his past wrongs, he'd squandered his chances yet again.

That night at her cousin's had been a do-over. He'd even made sure of it—he'd specifically told her he wanted to go on a date with her. And then when she ended up expecting things from him that _any _woman would have expected on a date, he had backed out.

He'd leaned away and turned away… He'd _forced her _away. Matt Casey shut his eyes, trying to forget. A weak kiss on the cheek had been a poor consolation prize for what could have been a truly enjoyable and exciting date. It could have been an amazing kiss, and he would probably never know what that might've felt like now. He exhaled deeply, trying to get his bearings. He didn't need to think about that right now, or think about her.

He was here for his mother, and that was whom he should be focusing on. Solely. His head snapped up when he heard a door open and identified the sound of multiple pairs of shoelace-less sneakers moving across the floor. They made quiet noises as they stepped across the linoleum. Matt scanned the small crowd dispersing around the room. Somewhere, he knew, was his mother, dressed in that sickeningly familiar beige jumpsuit and white undershirt.

The second he saw her, Christie's words floated up into his mind, her judgment and opinion haunting him like they always did whenever he visited Mom. She was forever making him second-guess himself. Part of him no longer knew if his intentions with mother were pure or not—did he want to defend her because he knew she deserved freedom, or simply because he wanted to prove his sister wrong, once and for all?

_"Don't you miss Dad?"_

He pushed the memory away so he wouldn't have to answer his sister's question. Even he didn't want to know what his honest answer would be.

His mother was heading towards him now. The smile on her mouth emphasized the lines on her face, which ended up making her appear more tired than happy to see him. But he did know that she was happy to see him. She always was, because she had no choice. He was the only visitor she ever got. She didn't have the luxury of acting bored or unimpressed upon seeing him.

She looked the same as always when she sat down—her pale face; her smart, calculating eyes; her small, quick smile; her short, red-brown hair cut just above her ears, curls going in all directions. Her hair seemed slightly wet today, and Casey wondered silently if she'd just gotten out of the shower, or maybe she had been exercising. Even before she'd ended up here, his mother had always been a fitness fanatic. He'd always assumed that was where he'd gotten it from, and that made him proud. Going to work every day, exercising those muscles and putting those daily workout to use—he was carrying a bit of her with him back to the real world, as much as he could manage. She was still in his work life, his daily life, if only in spirit.

He tried to smile wide when she sat down, but he couldn't manage more than a weak upturn of his lips. He had too much on his mind, but he'd known that since before he'd sat down. He supposed he should've done something about it, but what could he do? Memories of his failed date with Dawson had implanted themselves into his brain on what appeared to be a constant loop. He could never escape the assault of reminders of his own stupidity and cowardice.

_"It's not a good time."_

Would it ever be a good time? He bit back a sigh, forcing himself to focus and speak to his mother and forget about Dawson and what had happened—or truthfully, what _hadn't _happened—between them last night. It didn't matter right now. It couldn't matter.

"Hi, Mom." He smiled again, a bit fuller this time, and resigned himself to thirty minutes of meaningless chatter between himself and his only living parent. Memories of his sister and concerns over what might be happening at the firehouse flitted through his mind every few minutes, but the undercurrent of his thoughts was focused on something—some_one_—entirely different.

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Gabriela Dawson wished her partner would just drop it. The blonde had been hinting all day that she wanted details about what had happened last night between her and Casey, and even after Gabby had told her—more than once—to leave that night alone, she still hadn't.

Gabby knew if she broke down and yelled at her partner to shut up, she would, but she also knew she couldn't do that. Leslie was too good of a friend—Gabby didn't want to do that to her, and neither did Shay deserve it. So she stayed silent, continuing to put her friend off and replying again and again that she didn't want to talk about _the date_.

She held back a harsh snort of derision. It hadn't been a date; it had been a dump. _Yes, he made that perfectly clear when he kissed me on the _cheek.

Dawson was thankful when the topic veered to Shay's life, and though Gabriela felt bad that her friend had had some kind of serious fight with Kelly, she was also relieved. Maybe if she milked that situation for all it was worth, Shay would forget about her and Casey. Gabby knew it was a long shot, but she would take what she could get. She needed to stop thinking about Casey, and the best way to do that was to stop _talking _about him so much.

"I'll make my brother get the rest of your stuff tomorrow," Gabriela assured Shay, who had just admitted to moving out of the apartment she shared with the squad lieutenant. She pressed gauze to their patient's head as they squatted in the intersection, telling her partner, "And you're totally welcome to stay as long as you want."

"Thanks," Shay replied quickly, obviously not in the mood to discuss whatever had gone down between her and Severide. Gabby took the medical tape she offered and taped the gauze onto the man's head, but she didn't let Shay get off so easily: "You going to tell me what he did?"

"No," Shay replied at once. She tilted her head, eyeing Dawson. "You going to tell me how your date went?"

"Nope," Dawson replied immediately, avoiding her friend's eye and signaling to the waiting police officer that the man was ready to be taken away. "He's good."

The partners collected their gear, stood up, and headed back to ambulance sixty-one. It didn't take Shay more than five seconds to lay into Casey again. Dawson tried to ignore it, as she had been doing all day, but the afternoon was waning and she wasn't sure how much fight she had left in her for this sort of thing.

"Come on!" Shay groaned, impatient as ever. "Give me something!"

Dawson sighed, stripping off her latex gloves. "Okay," she surrendered finally, hoping it would help if she told someone. "Well, I was right about Casey—he's still into Hallie…" She sighed, balling up her gloves in a tight fist. "And I'm an idiot."

Dawson had thought it would feel better once she told someone—she hadn't told anyone what had happened last night—but putting the truth out there only made her feel worse. Telling Shay made the "date" _real_. It made his reluctance and then complete refusal to kiss her _real_. It made everything hurt more.

She barely felt Shay's comforting hand on her back as she climbed into the ambulance.

"Tomorrow night, you and me are going to have a few margaritas," her partner announced as she put away a few extra packages of gauze.

Dawson tried to laugh. It sounded sad and fake, even to her ears. She remembered laughing with Casey last night, and while she had been nervous and more than a little tense at the time, at least that laugh had been genuine. "A few pitchers, you mean," she corrected, zipping up their first-aid packs.

"Yeah, that was implied," Shay answered with a smile.

Dawson was going to say something, but her thoughts were drowned out by the blare of a nearly deafening horn. The sound was getting rapidly louder, and it sounded like it was getting closer—Dawson looked up from the medical supplies bags she was packing, and felt her whole entire body go rigid. She could hear Shay let out a gasp next to her, but she didn't even have a second to look over her shoulder to her friend. She saw the grill of some sort of large vehicle coming towards her for about a tenth of a second before a jarring force knocked her towards the opposite wall. Her head hit hard, and so did her side, and after that she didn't feel or see anything else.

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Leslie Shay came back to consciousness slowly and painfully. Her head hurt so bad it felt like her brain was swimming freely in fluid, not even attached to the rest of her body. She blinked, again and again, and though it hurt each time, her vision gradually improved until she could see clear enough to recognize her surroundings. She was in an ambulance. Her forehead creased, and though she felt pain at the action, she couldn't flinch. Why was she in an ambulance? She looked around. And she was lying in the floor, covered in packages of gauze and bandages. Why was this ambulance such a mess? Didn't these people know how to do their jobs properly? It looked like a mini-hurricane had swept through the back of the truck.

She struggled into a sitting position, still trying to piece it all together. She groaned in pain trying to move one leg and when she looked up, she realized it was trapped under their gurney. She frowned as she struggled to free her foot. Their? Why had she used that word? She blinked, finally having freed her foot. Their. Our. _This is _our_ ambulance._

"Dawson?" The word ripped from her mouth with a terrified ferocity she couldn't remember using in a very long time. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. She gripped the seat beside her, struggling to her feet. "Dawson?" She called again. She tried to look for that familiar dark hair, but all she could see was the mess—the strewn medical equipment, bandages, machinery… She tried to remember again what had happened, but her need to find Gabriela superseded that. She couldn't focus or think about anything else except finding her partner. "Dawson?" She called out a third time, finally making her way towards the back of the truck.

She nearly fell over upon seeing a body strewn across the floor like a rag doll. That wasn't Dawson. That couldn't be Dawson.

That couldn't be _anyone._ That person didn't even look like a _person_!

But Leslie Shay saw the mocha-brown skin of the woman's hand and wrist beneath her EMT jacket and she knew it was Dawson. It had to be. She could barely hear anything except her thumping heart and her worried voice, which grew increasingly terrified with each moment that passed.

"Dawson? _Dawson_?" She scrambled as quickly towards her friend as she could mange with her bad leg, panic making her limbs and thoughts go haywire. "Gabby, honey…" She reached for her friends arm, checking for a pulse. _Thank god. _It was slow, weak, but it was there. That was all that mattered. Carefully, she reached down, straightening her friend's bloody and bruised face that had been lying to the side—no doubt smashed against the metal cabinet it now rested next to—so she could look into the woman's eyes. "Oh, honey…" Shay pulled open Gabby's eyes, momentarily panicking upon finding them unresponsive, but when she took a moment to cover the left one quickly, she was relieved to watch the pupil go from wide to narrow as she removed her hand. "You're gonna be okay, Gab," she whispered, swallowing her fears and holding onto the tiny fact that at least her pupils responded to light. That was something. She repeated the words again and again like a mantra, more to comfort herself than the unresponsive Dawson. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew her partner couldn't hear her.

Sirens suddenly filled her ears, and Shay became suddenly and acutely aware—as her ears began recognizing other ambient noises as well—that those sirens had been screaming for at least as long as she'd been conscious. She reached up, feeling rivulets of sweat on her brow, and quickly swiped away at her forehead. The back of her hand came away discolored with a bright scarlet liquid.

_Blood._

She looked back down at Dawson. The woman was _covered _in scarlet, and Shay knew it hadn't been from her own dripping forehead. The right half of Dawson's face looked like it'd been splashed with red paint, which Shay could see was stemming from what looked like a jagged wound by her temple. She prayed there wasn't any brain damage. The other half of her face already sported dark purple bruises around her eyes and cheek.

Shay felt her breathing shorten. She could tell just by looking at her partner that the woman was seriously injured. _Dawson, Dawson, Dawson…_

She didn't even realize she was whispering her partner's name aloud until a man appeared at her side, asking if she had a first name that went along with it.

"Gabriela," Shay choked out at once. She felt her chest constrict, and she knew it had nothing to do with her own injuries. Her leg must be in bad shape after being trapped, but she barely felt it. She couldn't keep her eyes off of her partner as the other EMTs strapped her in braces and bandages and loaded her onto a stretcher.

She ran along beside them—limped, really—and managed to squeeze her way into the ambulance. She could hear the medical professionals around her reciting blood pressure and heart rates to each other, but it all sounded like white noise to her. Nothing would matter until Gabriela Dawson opened her eyes and spoke. Only then would Shay know that she was really okay.

Shay reached out, grabbing her friend's hand and clutching it tight in her own. Now that the shock was beginning to wear off, she could feel the tears pricking her eyes. "Gabby," she managed, her voice hoarse and full of tears. "Gabby, please." She adjusted her grip, tightening it and hoping she wasn't hurting the woman's unmoving fingers. She hated that all she could do to help right now was hold her friend's hand—what help was that? "Just hang on until we get to Lakeshore, okay, honey? Just a few minutes. You'll be okay. You'll be all better." She could feel tears fall from her eyes, down her cheeks, and over her lips. She ducked her head, pressing a kiss to the Latina's still hand. One tear dribbled down her nose and onto her friend's hand. She wiped it away like it would produce a black stain on Gabriela's record. "I promise you'll be all right, sweetie."

Shay didn't say anything else after that. She didn't say that Dawson _had _to be didn't say that she felt like she would be dying alongside her if the worst were to happen. No, instead, she kept all those terrible fears locked up inside her because she knew if she voiced them—is she even spoke of the possibility of anything _except_ a full recovery—that she would be plagued by the worst until the worst, inevitably, happened.

Leslie Shay would not let the worst happen. Dawson was her trusted partner, her best friend… _She was not going to die._

Shay wouldn't let her.

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_Author's Note:__ Well, I hope you all liked that! It was chapter one of what is going to become a multi-chapter fic. :) I would greatly appreciate reviews below, if you would be so kind as to leave me one. Thank you so much for reading! :)_

_For FFN readers... I am not sure if I'm going to continue posting on FFN. I've had a rather unhappy relationship with this site and readers, but so far, in the CF fandom, things have been going well. I'll let you all know if I'm going to stop posting on here. You can always find my stories on my LiveJournal, though, and I welcome all friend requests. Thank you._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

_Author's Note: Wow! Thank you all so much for your reviews and encouragement on the first chapter! I am so happy so many of you took to this story so quickly and are interested in seeing more. Here is the next chapter. :)_

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Despite the pain in her leg, Leslie Shay didn't have any trouble keeping up with the paramedics wheeling Dawson from the ambulance into the emergency room at Lakeshore Memorial Hospital. In fact, she couldn't feel the pain in her leg at all. Or her leg. She realized her adrenaline was pumping again, but she didn't stop or pause to let her body slow down. She didn't feel like taking care of herself right now.

"BP is 180 over 100," the male paramedic beside her announced as they pushed through the ER's swinging doors. "Pulse of 56, respiration is at ten and irregular."

When he paused, Shay jumped in: "Her pupils are unequal but she responded to light on scene."

The ER doctors met them halfway to the nearest bed, taking over for the paramedics. The EMTs were already heading back the way they'd come, but Shay couldn't leave. She couldn't let go.

"Is she allergic to any medication?" The ER doctor asked as they wheeled Dawson to the closest bed.

"No," Shay choked out, forcing herself to stop where she was. Her hands were yanked from the rails of Dawson's gurney when the doctors pulled her away for treatment. She stood still, her head swimming and her eyes filling with tears. She didn't know which was worse—that Dawson was hurt or that Shay wasn't able to help her.

"Leslie." The Chief's voice sounded low and series as ever, and when she blinked, there he was beside her. "You okay?"

Shay spared a moment to meet his pained eyes, acknowledging him but not answering, before looking back to Dawson. She wanted to run after the doctors, to join in and be a part of saving Dawson's life, but she knew she couldn't. It wasn't her job and, for the first time in her life, she regretted not going to medical school. She wanted to be next to Gabriela every step of the way—from the ambulance to the operating room. Dawson would've done it for her, Shay was certain. She could feel her eyes fill with tears again; her vision went blurry as she tried to focus unblinkingly on her friend even as tears formed in her eyelids.

Dawson, who was taking night classes herself. Dawson, who wanted to make something more of herself. Dawson, who was always kind and funny and generous. Dawson, who said Shay could stay at her place as long as she wanted, who arranged to have her own brother get the rest of Shay's things…

"She's gonna be fine." The Chief's voice cut through to her in all the chaos of the emergency room, and she looked up to him gratefully. She could feel tears filling her eyes to capacity now, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold it together much longer.

She could feel her hands start to tremble as she remembered.

_"Do you not like your partner?"_

_"I like her very much indeed, sir."_

When she blinked, she was snapped back to the present. They weren't in trouble for some stupid infraction anymore. Dawson was in the hospital and Shay was standing on the sidelines.

_Dawson…_

The tears spilled from her eyes like a switch had been flipped. She lifted a hand, trying to cover her mouth as the sobs forced their way from her stomach to her throat. "We—We were just talking—" She broke off, not being able to say anymore.

She could feel the Chief step closer, feel his arm on her shoulder, and she had no option except to sink into him. She felt even more tears spring to her eyes when she felt him kiss her hair lightly and hug her briefly. The Chief had never once been so affectionate with her—or with anyone, as far as Shay had been able to tell.

_He's only being nice to me because he knows Dawson's going to die._

That thought brought up another fresh waves of sobs, and Shay could do nothing except completely collapse in the Chief's arms now. She struggled to keep her eyes open as they overflowed with tears—she had to keep an eye on Dawson. Who else was going to watch her? Who was going to take are of her? When the doctors and nurses began crowding around Gabriela, Shay felt like wailing because she couldn't see what was going on, but she forced herself to hold back. She would not fall apart anymore. Not here, not now. She would help in any way that she could, and that started with _not _sobbing. She straightened up a few seconds later, and met the Chief's eye when he spoke to her.

"I'm gonna get you looked at, okay?" His voice was still quiet and soft, but she could sense a nervous edge to it. If she wasn't so consumed with terror for Gabriela, Shay knew she'd probably be embarrassed. She'd just collapsed in her boss's arms like he had been Kelly. Her lips twitched into a frown. Well, the old Kelly.

"Okay," she answered quietly, nodding along even though the last thing she wanted was to be taken care of. All the doctors should be focused on Dawson, but she knew someone would insist she be taken care of. She submitted silently, letting the Chief direct her towards a waiting medical professional.

Shay kept her eyes on Gabriela until she was led around a corner and could no longer see her friend.

She did not speak throughout the entire exam unless a direct question was posed to her. Her answers were rarely more detailed than a toneless "yeah" or "no."

She watched the clock obsessively, counting the seconds as they passed by. She hoped she wasn't missing her partner's final minutes on earth.

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When the guard indicated that there were five minutes left until visiting time was over, Casey made to get to his feet.

"I should probably head back to the house," he told his mother, though it was only a half-truth. Unless an emergency had cropped up in the last half-hour, he didn't need to rush back to the firehouse. He could take the five more minutes.

But it had become clear to him as the minutes slowly ticked by in the prison that he _couldn't_ stay here much longer. He just couldn't take it. He didn't know if it was his proximity to his convicted-murderer mother, his sister's judgment swirling in his mind, or thoughts of Dawson that kept surfacing at the worst times, but he knew he had to leave. He had to get out; go for a drive. He needed to think.

So he said goodbye to his mother, gave her a small smile indicating that he would've hugged her if he'd been allowed, and then set off towards the exit.

He knew he needed to clear his mind—once and for all—before facing Gabriela again. He needed to get his head on straight and man up. He knew he had to explain things to her, because she deserved an explanation just as much—if not more—than she'd deserved a good date last night.

_Maybe, _he thought to himself, walking back through the entrance he'd come in, _if the talk goes well, we can have a do-over._ He could take her to a restaurant. Or maybe they could cook dinner together. He smiled to himself. Maybe she'd teach him not only _how _to say the name of his favorite dish, but how to make it too.

By the time he walked back through security, he'd had it decided. He would find Dawson at the firehouse right away and explain things plain and simple—about his Mom, his sister, him… He could do it. He nodded to himself, affirming this thought. He could do it If it meant righting the wrongs he'd perpetrated against her these past few days and giving them a real chance to start over fresh, he could do it. He _had_ to. She meant too much to him for him to continue withholding the truth, and he was sick of disappointing her. She didn't deserve that sort of treatment.

He snatched his phone, wallet, keys, and change from a small basket just before the main exit to the parking lot. He kept his keys in his hand, but pocketed the coins, his wallet, and his phone immediately, not bothering to check for missed calls or texts. Nothing too important could've happened in the last hour—if it had been an emergency, Boden would have notified the prison and the guards would've come to fetch him.

Matt zipped up his jacket as he stepped outside. The wind had picked up, and the temperature had grown noticeably colder since he'd first entered the prison. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets for warmth, rushing to his truck and trying not to remember…

_"Shit, it's freezing outside!" Gabby hissed, opening the truck's door and then pulling it closed immediately upon feeling the icy chill from the outside on her bare legs and arms. "What?" She laughed, catching the bewildered look on her date's face as she turned toward the driver's seat._

_Matt Casey smiled, shaking his head. "Nothing," he muttered, reaching for the handle of his own door and popping it open. He'd never heard her swear before. Or, he corrected a moment later, he'd never heard her swear outside of a life-or-death situation._

_As he swung open his door, even _his _first reaction was to swear when he felt just how cold it was. It truly was freezing outside. He suspected it was fifteen degrees, at most. He glanced over to the house as he rounded the front of the truck. It was all lit up, twinkling in the distance, and even from here—probably a quarter of a mile down a private driveway lined on all sides by cars—Matt could see it wasn't really a house. It was a mansion._

_He was still glancing over his shoulder at the immense building when he pulled open Dawson's door, helping her from the cab._

_"Huge, isn't it?" She commented, snorting as she looked over at the mansion. Casey wondered if he was imagining the edge of derision in her response. They'd talked a lot about her family over the years, but he didn't remember this cousin—María Fuentes—ever being mentioned. Casey wondered if that meant if they were on bad terms, and if so, why had he and Dawson been invited, then?_

_"María only invites the riffraff like you and me in cause she likes to show off," Dawson stated matter-of-factly, and for a second, Casey wondered if she'd read his mind. She smiled when she saw him staring at her. "I saw the question on your face," she explained, taking the helping hand he offered and stepping down from the truck. "And no, we don't get along."_

_Dawson shivered as she stepped down onto the pavement. She slammed the truck door behind her and then crossed her arms tightly across her chest. It didn't take more than one second for goosebumps to sprout all over her arms._

_"Here," Matt offered, reaching down to unbutton his jacket and then take it off his shoulders._

_Dawson shook her head, holding up her palms to stop him. "Casey, I don't need that. We'll be at the house in a couple minutes…"_

_"Take it," he replied, ignoring her protests and draping the jacket over her anyway._

_"You're going to freeze," she muttered quietly. He noticed with a small amount of pride that even though her tone was grudging, she didn't take off the jacket. Part of him actually wished she would; all he was wearing now was a thin button-up and he was certain he was already frozen. (If not yet, he was well on his way there.)_

_"I'll be fine," he assured her nonetheless, leading the way to the house so he wouldn't have to stand in one place and let her see him tremble. "C'mon, we should get to the party."_

_It wasn't until they got to the steps that Dawson spoke again. She bumped her hip lightly against his as they reached the steps. "Thank you for this," she smiled, shrugging off the coat and passing it to him._

_"No pr—problem," he replied, struggling to stuff his stiff, frozen limbs into the armholes._

_Dawson looked at him with alarm. "You're shivering, Casey!"_

_"'M fine," Casey bit out, not trusting himself with more than one word at a time. He didn't want to let himself slip again._

_"I can hear your teeth chattering," Dawson replied with a frown. She reached out, touching his neck with one hand, his cheek with the other. He felt like ice—even to her cold fingers. "You're freezing," she exclaimed, her eyes flashing up to his._

_Casey looked down at her, and though he'd been about to shrug, he suddenly didn't feel like it anymore. He stared into her eyes and he didn't want to move—not one muscle. He could feel the wind whipping his lips chapped and the icy temperature seeping into his skin, but her hands were relatively warm against his face and the look in her eyes was anything but chilling. In fact, it was the complete opposite. It was—_

_"Gabriela!" A woman Casey took to be Dawson's cousin shouted from the top of the stairs waving them inside. "Come on! What are you doing standing out in the cold? You're going to catch hypothermia, you know."_

Casey shook his head, physically trying to eradicate the image from his mind. He yanked open the door to the driver's side of the truck, jumping inside and starting to engine with one hand as he slammed the door shut with the other. He hoped the car would heat up fast. Warmth would erase memories of her from his mind.

He regretted that thought nearly the exact second hot air from the vents started to hit his chilled body.

_"It's not a good time."_

As if it wasn't hard enough thinking back to the jovial aspects of the night, his enormous blunder in the library was the _last _thing he wanted on his mind. All it took, though, was one thought and one blast of heat. One thought, and he was back in the library. One thought, and she was standing on that spiral staircase, staring over at him with those eyes that could light his body on fire with a single look.

He pushed his forehead against the steering wheel, but still he couldn't pummel the thoughts of her out of his head. He couldn't help but wonder just what might've happened if they had, indeed, kissed. If he hadn't been so preoccupied that he'd been forced to reject her.

Matt Casey had known for the past week that he was interested in Gabriela. Practically every night before he'd fallen asleep, he'd replayed that charged, tense moment in her kitchen over and over and over again. His interest in her had been boiling just below the surface even since that night in her apartment, and he wished now that he had acted on the urge to kiss her then—the urge that he'd thought was only a momentary whim.

These past few days had shown him that his longing for her kiss was anything _but _a whim. He couldn't stop thinking about it. First he pictured himself kissing her in the kitchen, and now…

Casey knew that it wouldn't have been a short kiss if he'd kissed her in her cousin's library like she'd wanted. It couldn't have been.

He suddenly saw visions of their arms wrapping around each other, their bodies entangled and bumping against bookcases, staircases, floors, and steps… He tried to calm down. He could feel his blood roaring in his veins, and he knew that he if was going to even attempt to talk to Dawson like a normal, rational, _contrite _human being, he would have to do it _after _he'd gotten all these stupid fantasies out of his head.

They hadn't kissed in the library and that was that. They hadn't kissed in he kitchen, either. They hadn't kissed _at all._ There was no reason to be dwelling on what might've been. It was time to turn the failed "what if" into a new challenge and a new opportunity for success. This time, Matt promised himself—and her—that he wouldn't fail. This time, he would be sure to explain everything to her—not just what his family meant to him, but what she meant to him, too. She deserved to know that, as much as anything else.

If today had taught him anything, it was that she was on his mind just as much—if not more—than his closest relatives. She'd earned a place of honor inside what some had called a big heart even though, upon closer inspection, it was clear that Matt Casey only had enough room to keep a few token people safe and loved within that four-chambered organ.

The rest he kept at arm's length, but he didn't want to keep Gabriela at arm's length. Not anymore.

He took a deep breath, trying not to worry about their coming conversation. What would he do if she wanted nothing to do with him?

.

_"This is Matt Casey. Leave it here and I'll call you back."_

Chief Wallace Boden frowned deeply as he pressed his cell phone more firmly against his cheek. He couldn't remember going through something like this—_one of his people was in critical condition_—and not being able to get through to his lieutenant. He wished he could hang up and try again—as if the lieutenant would answer the second time but not the first—but he knew that was useless. He waited for the telltale beep of the answering machine and then began.

"Casey… I have no way to put this except to say it straight: Dawson's in the hospital. A tow-truck hit her and Shay while they were out on a call this afternoon. While I've been told Leslie's going to be fine, they don't know anything about Gabriela yet. We're still in the ER. I'll see you when you get here."

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Matt Casey sighed as he was stopped—yet again—at another red light. It felt like the hundredth he'd come across, but in reality, it was probably only the fourth. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, but after a few seconds, he became bored with that. He kept one eye on the stoplight as he picked up his phone. The streetlight didn't show signs of changing anytime soon, so he unlocked his cell, surprised to find he had two voicemails waiting for him.

One was from Joe Cruz, and the second was from Chief Boden. Matt frowned, and the gesture made his entire face crease with worry. What was so important that Boden would've left him a voicemail? And Cruz, too?

He returned his gaze to the stoplight, knowing it would turn any second now, and pressed play on the voicemail. It was probably about a fire, he realized, getting ready to alter his driving course at any moment once Boden announced the address. It probably wasn't too bad—the Chief hadn't contacted the prison officials—but Casey knew he should be there anyway. Gear or no gear, he had to be there for his men.

_"Casey… I have no way to put this except to say it straight…"_

He felt his stomach drop out of body even before the Chief finished his first sentence. His heart constricted in his chest when he heard her name, and then it began pumping in double-time, faster and faster and faster. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel it in his fingertips. His mind was swimming, only able to focus on a few gut-wrenching phrases.

_Dawson's in the hospital._

_ER._

_Lakeshore._

He wasn't sure if he was even breathing as he quickly switched lanes, turning onto Chestnut Street and driving as fast as he could towards the hospital. He could see it in the distance, growing closer and closer…

Would he be fast enough?

Would she still be in the emergency room by the time he got there? Casey hadn't even bothered to look at the timestamp on the message. His cell had been on silent since he entered the prison; he could've received the voicemail five seconds ago or fifty minutes ago.

Ice poured down his back, making his muscles seize.

Would she even still be alive by the time he arrived?

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_Author's Note: I apologize for the cliffhanger, but it was necessary due to the character limit. Thank you all for reading, and I hope to see you all again soon! Reviews would be GREATLY appreciated! I would really like to hear what you guys THINK of this chapter._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

_To Mellsteele: Thank you for your review! I'm very glad you've liked this story so much so far!_

_Amjp: Thank you so very much! I am so pleased you think this story is well-described (something I feel I'm always terrible at) as well as coming across as mature. That means a lot. I try to write as far away from teen romances as I can. (PS: The description about Casey's heart was probably my favorite line in the chapter. I'm so flattered you pointed it out.)_

_._

**_I apologize for the wait. I've been having some pretty bad writer's block recently, and I've found it really tough to focus on any of my stories. I hope this chapter hasn't suffered as a result of that, but definitely let me know if it has. (I know the beginning sucks.)_**

_Author's Note: Thank you to the few who reviewed. I would love to hear from more of you._

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The loud _BANG _of the entrance doors slamming against the walls of Lakeshore Memorial Hospital made Chief Wallace Boden jump in place, but none of the doctors seemed to even notice the intrusion. They were all too focused on the patient they were rushing to the operating room—a young woman in her early thirties who had been involved in a car accident just a few minutes ago. She had what looked like multiple broken ribs, and was probably sporting a rather serious brain injury. They didn't have any time to waste.

"Is that her? Is that Dawson?" The sharp shout cut through the hustle and bustle of the hospital, and Boden recognized it at once.

He quickly moved away from the doctors surrounding Dawson's gurney to stop Casey before he got too close. The doctors would take care of Dawson, but he had to take care of his men, and he knew from the look on Casey's face that stopping even one of his firefighters from intervening wouldn't be as easy as he'd hoped.

"Let them do their job," the Chief said at once, not keen on letting anyone bother the doctors while they were trying to do their best. He caught the lieutenant around the middle, holding him back when he tried to rush around the Chief. "Casey!" He grunted, struggling to tighten his grip on the younger man. He hadn't expected the lieutenant to put up this spirited of a fight. "_Casey!" _Boden was shouting right into the man's ear, but Matt Casey didn't even seem to hear him.

"Let go; I need to see her! I need to tell her—"

"_Casey._" Boden put his hands on Matt's chest, forcefully pushing the younger man back. He stumbled back, and for a moment before Casey righted himself, Boden thought he was actually going to fall. Boden put a warning finger between himself and his lieutenant, telling him without even having to use words that Casey couldn't go any farther. "Right now there is nothing you can do," Boden told him hurriedly. His voice was low and hard, but he didn't care if he sounded insensitive. Sensitivity wouldn't make his lieutenant see sense, he'd known that from the moment the man had stormed into the ER. "There's nothing you can tell her. It isn't your job to fix her, Casey, so _settle_ _down_." He bit out the last two words like they were separate sentences, staring his lieutenant dead in the eyes the entire time.

Casey seemed to sway on the spot at Boden's words. His gaze was fixed on Dawson even as the doctors wheeled her down a corridor on the left, towards the nearest operating room and out of sight. Boden eyed the other man warily, his body braced for another one of Casey's run-around attempts. As he watched, though, the younger man seemed to give up altogether on outwitting his superior.

"What… What are they saying?" Casey managed finally, his eyes still fixed on the point where Dawson disappeared from his line of sight. His face was clearly drained of blood; his skin looked more drawn and paler than usual. "How—How bad is she?" He swallowed, his Adam's apple sticking in his throat, and finally looked back to the Chief. His eyes had an unfocused quality to them, and even though the Chief knew Casey was looking at him, Boden couldn't be sure that Casey actually _saw_ him. "Is she going to—make it?"

Chief Wallace Boden looked at his lieutenant sadly. He wished he had better news, but there was no use in prolonging the inevitable or sugar-coating reality. "I don't know yet," he answered quietly.

Casey blinked at the news, but gave no response.

Wallace Boden stared at his right-hand man with a mixture of concern and confusion swirling through his mind. Promoting Casey to be the lieutenant of truck 81 had been a no-brainer all those years ago. He was always—_always, always, always—_calm and cool and collected. Responsible. He knew what his job was, he knew what his crew's job was, and he made sure everyone, including himself, got that job done. That was why Boden had picked him to be lieutenant—because no matter the situation, Matthew Casey always had things under control.

But right now it looked like one of Chief Boden's most trusted firefighters was about to completely fall apart.

Boden had never seen him like this. He peered closer, looking into what he'd previously thought was lack of focus in his lieutenant's gaze. Were those actually _tears_ clouding his eyes?

Boden allowed himself a short moment to be taken aback before letting out a tired sigh. He knew now that there had been probably many things been going on behind the scenes or after hours between the truck lieutenant and a certain paramedic… Why he hadn't been notified, Wallace Boden could not even begin to guess.

He wished he could demand an explanation, but Boden knew Casey was in no state to sit down and have a chat about his personal life right now—no matter how much it conflicted with his work life. The Chief sighed again, quieter now, wondering what to say. He wished he could feed Casey a white lie and say it would all be okay like he'd done with Shay. But Leslie had known the facts, the risks. She'd been there, and she was a paramedic, for god's sake. She had known full well that Boden had been lying to her to make her feel better when he'd said Dawson would be all right. Boden knew he couldn't lie to his distraught lieutenant like this. He wouldn't give the man false hope, not when he seemed so desperate.

"Go sit down in the waiting room," Boden advised quietly, not having anything else to say. He pointed towards a small hallway to his right. It led in the opposite direction of the operating rooms.

Casey shook his head obstinately, adamantly standing his ground. "No," he bit out, his chin jutting forward like a shield. "I'm not going anywhere."

Boden stepped closer, softening his voice as he put a hand on his lieutenant's shoulder. "Matt, look. I've been here, all right? I know how tough it is to wait for news like this." He paused to let that sink in before continuing as he knew he had to. "Casey, your men will be here in five minutes, and they're going to need your support, all right? _Your_ leadership. You are not allowed to be a grieving family member," he added, his voice lowering to a growl as if to remind his lieutenant that Casey wasn't anything close to family where Gabriela Dawson was concerned.

Boden watched as anger and denial flitted across Casey's features. For a few seconds, he was certain Casey was going to make a run for it, try to get to Dawson again, but then—before Boden's very own eyes—the man seemed to deflate. The Chief could see resignation pull the lieutenant's face down even as his eyes flickered up, searching up and down the empty OR hallway for Dawson with what Boden could only describe as longing.

Wallace Boden bit his tongue. Half of him—the Chief half—wanted to sit Casey down and demand to know what the hell had been going on behind the scenes at the firehouse between him and Dawson. Boden did not appreciate being kept in the dark or out of the loop—especially not on things like this. Personal relationships were never a good thing to pursue within firehouses. Firefighters faced death daily—multiple times a day, usually—and romantic entanglements only made things worse when someone inevitably got hurt. With great difficulty, Boden held back the instinct to interrogate Casey. He knew the questioning would not be well received by his lieutenant, and besides, what was there to learn? He already knew they were involved; did the details really matter at this stage, with Dawson's health on the line? All it took was for the Chief to take one look at Matthew Casey to see how distressed the man was, and Boden knew far better than to question a man in this sort of state over a woman. He'd be useless—worse than useless—until she was out of the woods.

Boden sighed, not having anything else to say. "Fine," he muttered, giving in. He dropped his hands from holding Casey back, stepped aside, and let the man pass. Casey stared at him for a moment, curious, and before he had time to regret his decision, Boden tipped his head towards the hallway on the left. "Go on," he muttered, ushering Casey away.

Matt stared at his boss for approximately two seconds, in which he appeared to be grappling with whether or not he should thank the man who had barred his access to Gabriela in the first place for letting him go. In the end, he simply nodded quickly—in thanks or acknowledgement, Boden didn't know—before hurrying towards the ORs.

Boden watched him go, but soon enough Casey had completely disappeared down the hallway, and there was nothing left to watch. Not being able to retire to the waiting room himself, he situated himself in a relatively empty section of the ER and paced. It didn't take more than a couple of minutes for the stomping of ten-plus pairs of boots and jangling equipment to fill the ER. Boden met them at the door, and quietly and quickly explained the situation. He told them what he knew (which was very little) and then proceeded to direct them towards the waiting room. They all followed his orders without complaint or even the smallest protest.

No one spoke for a while until Peter Mills suddenly wondered, his head jerking up from where it had been hanging, studying the linoleum flooring, "Where's Lieutenant Casey?"

All the men of truck 81 looked up at the question. They all glanced around, each obviously thinking they'd be the one to spot their lieutenant, but after a moment it became clear that he really was missing. Then they all looked to their Chief, certain he'd have an explanation.

Boden took a moment to survey his firefighters in turn. To his quiet surprise, they all looked genuinely confused as to where Casey was and why he happened to be missing while everyone else was present. There wasn't one guilty or ashamed face. Not one of them looked to be in on whatever secret relationship had been going on between Casey and Dawson and Boden sighed, admitting that it wasn't his place to out the two, especially not with one still in the operating room.

"He's dealing with a personal matter," Boden answered, which was partly true, he supposed. "I've left him a message and I'm sure he'll be here as quick as he can manage."

That seemed to be enough for the group, for after listening, they all lapsed into silence once again. They sat, waiting and worrying, and no one said another word for a long time.

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Kelly Severide hated hospitals.

Maybe it was because whenever he walked into one, he felt his shoulder tighten just a_ little bit _more than usual. Or maybe it was because he'd seen too many people die in fires, he'd heard of too many bodies that never made it out of the ER alive. Whatever it was, he knew that walking through all those sterile, whitewashed rooms made his skin crawl, and that was enough to make him avoid them at all costs. He'd much rather walk into a crumbling, burning building than set foot in a state-of-the-art a hospital.

Nonetheless, Kelly bit the bullet and made his way through the ER entrance. He found Casey's men quick enough—they were all camped out together in the waiting room, conspicuous in both their number and look. They were all still decked out in their gear; the reflective tape on their jackets caught the light and shines when the fluorescent overheads hit it at just the right angle.

Kelly nodded to a few members of the truck squad when they looked up as he passed by, but he didn't stop to chat. He made a beeline for Boden.

"What have you heard?" he demanded. He'd spoken with Shay on the phone earlier, to check that she was in fact alive—he hadn't believed initial reports—but she'd had very little information to offer him on what was actually happening, stuck in an exam room as she was at the time. She'd somehow managed to sound both completely detached and at the verge of tears at the very same time. He needed to find her, talk to her… but first he had to find out what was going on. He'd heard Dawson was the one in worse shape, though he had no idea how much worse.

"Not much," the Chief replied grimly. "From the looks of it, it appears that she's got a pretty bad head injury and probably some broken ribs. We haven't gotten any official word yet from the surgeons, though." He sighed. "I know none of that's good, but she… she could be a lot worse," he finished in a mutter. Though no one said it, they could all hear it: _At least she's alive for the time being._

Severide digested this slowly, and when he managed to make sense of it, he finally took a look around to get his bearings. Rescue Squad had pulled in a minute or two before him, and it looked like all of the truck squad was already here. He felt a pang of guilt for apparently being the last one to arrive. He looked around at the men, but none of them lifted their eyes to look up at him. They were all either looking down at the floor or staring off into space. He hadn't seen them look so despondent in a very long time.

Kelly quickly cleared his throat, hoping to rouse some of them out of their stupors. "So, uh, the other driver," he began, struggling to remember the few details he'd been told on the phone earlier, "this—this tow truck, was he DUI or—?"

"No," Otis replied at once, sounding just as exasperated about the news as Severide felt. For some reason, he couldn't help but feel like maybe the accident would've actually meant something if the other driver had been drunk. Then, at least, they would have someone to blame and punish. "Breathalyzer came up negative."

"It was a stupid freak thing," Mills added, his hands clasped together as he looked up at Severide. "The police said his truck blew a tire."

"What about Dawson's family?" Severide called, looking around and hoping to find someone who had some answers. The second he asked, he suddenly realized he had no idea who Dawson's family was. He knew she had a brother, but that was about it. He wished Casey were here, or Shay. Did anyone else really even know Dawson besides those two? Where the hell were they when he needed them both so much? And why hadn't the rest of them been better coworkers, better friends? "Her mother? Father?" He wondered, practically shooting the breeze now; he didn't even know if Dawson's parents were still alive. He searched the familiar crowd for answers, but no one seemed to have any. It made him feel both worse and better that he wasn't the only one who had no idea who Dawson's family was. "Does she have any sisters? Does anyone have her brother's—"

"I called her cousin."

Severide whirled around at the voice, coming face-to-face with a tired but rather healthy-looking Leslie Shay. He couldn't help but stare at her, frozen in place mid-sentence, before stepping forward and crushing her in a close hug. Kelly knew he was probably hurting her a bit by holding her so tightly, but he couldn't let up. Seeing her standing before him, he'd suddenly became very aware of how close he'd come to losing the most important person in his life and now that she was here—now that she was _okay_—he couldn't let her go.

The group sent smiles and called out happily a few times upon seeing their sassiest EMT back on her feet, but overall the mood in the waiting room remained rather subdued. Dawson was still in care, still nursing a brain injury and broken bones and god knew what else. She was still under the knife and no one would dare be happy while one of their own was still so severely injured.

Shay patted his back as they pulled apart. "I wanted to call Antonio," she added, answering his last question, "but I didn't have his number. I thought Casey might have it, after everything that happened with Voigt. I was just coming out here to talk with him…"

Kelly frowned at the mention of the truck squad's lieutenant. He looked around, searching for that familiar face and blonde hair, but said face didn't appear. Kelly didn't see him anywhere.

"Where's Casey?" He wondered aloud. He hadn't realized this until just now, but heading into the ER, it had been Casey he'd expected to receive him, not the Chief. Where was he? Severide looked out across the men, but no one looked ready to offer up an answer. He turned back to the Chief, feeling both shocked and offended. Dawson and Casey had been close for years; Severide couldn't believe he wasn't here for her now. She was hurt, in surgery, and maybe her life was in danger. Where was her goddamn best friend at a time like this? How could he have anything better to do than be right by her side?

"Where is he?" Severide asked again, more impatient this time. He knew his voice was rising, but he didn't give a damn. If it had been Shay in that operating room instead of Dawson, he would've been sure to be the first one at the ER. He would've stood in on the surgery and held her hand and promised her she'd be okay—who cared if the doctors told him he couldn't be there? He would never have left her to fend for herself at a time like this, and he couldn't believe Casey wouldn't do the same to protect Dawson.

"Severide." The Chief called Kelly over quietly, beckoning him a few feet away so as to keep their conversation private and inaudible from the rest of the group. Severide squeezed Shay's hand quickly before walking over to meet him.

The two came to a standstill about twelve feet from the rest of the group. For a few long seconds, Boden simply stared at his fearless squad lieutenant. Finally, in that serious, gravelly voice he usually retained for disciplinary meetings, the Chief asked, "Are you telling me you didn't know about this?"

"Know about what?" Severide shot back.

Boden's sharp eyes narrowed. "About Casey and Dawson."

The Chief watched, stupefied, as Severide didn't even bat an eyelash at the mention. He'd expected _some _sort of shock to cross the squad lieutenant's face, but there was nothing. "Yeah, what about them?" Kelly demanded immediately. "They're friends. And he should have been the first one here," he added heatedly, "Bottom line. If it had been Shay, I—"

"Casey's been here for nearly an hour," Boden interrupted quietly, watching shock he'd expected earlier replace the indignation on Kelly's face. Most of the group had only arrived twenty minutes ago; Severide himself had just walked in. But Casey had been here for almost an _hour? _Severide looked back over at the men, but still Casey hadn't materialized. Where was he hiding?

"So?" Severide wondered as he turned back around, his shock having dissipated. "If he's been here for an hour, then where is he? I haven't seen him." Kelly watched as Boden's eyes flickered to the hallway that led to the ORs, but he didn't bother looking over his shoulder towards the rooms. Dawson and her doctors were behind a wall; there was nothing to see.

But even so, Boden lifted a hand, pointing towards that OR hallway. Severide exhaled shortly, turning his head over his shoulder to look. At first he didn't see anything—just those pale white walls, the thick wooden doors, and a few nurses bustling about. He was about to turn back to the Chief and ask, "So what?" but then he did a double take. He didn't know exactly what he thought he'd seen before, but he definitely hadn't spotted Matthew Casey sitting on the floor, his body hunched forward as he leaned against the wall of the OR, the first time he'd looked. Severide blinked, but the man didn't disappear. He just pressed his forehead more firmly against his arms, which were crossed over his bent knees.

Severide's head snapped back to Boden's in the blink of an eye. "What the hell is he doing th—"

"He's been like that since he arrived," Boden explained, his voice turning grim again. "I had to stop him from running into the OR when he first stormed in." He stared his other lieutenant dead in the eye. "Are you really going to look me in the eye right now and tell me you didn't expect something like this when you heard Dawson was hurt, Kelly?"

Severide shook his head slowly, glancing back at Casey again. The man still hadn't moved. If his body hadn't been curled up into what looked like an extremely uncomfortable position, Severide might've thought Casey was meditating. As things stood now, though, it looked more like he was praying. Or grieving. He blinked, the thought washing over him. He'd never seen Casey cry. And until one minutes ago, he never expected that he would.

"I didn't…" The squad lieutenant cleared his throat, looking back to the Chief. "Chief, I have as little idea of what's going on with him as you seem to."

Boden eyed Severide for a long moment before waving him away. "Great," he sighed heavily. "So we've all been kept in the dark as to whatever's been going on with those two, and now one of them's in the hospital. Spectacular," he growled, in a dark tone that suggested this development was anything _but_ spectacular. Kelly couldn't agree more. He watched as the Chief's eyes looked down the OR hallway, seeking out Casey again. Severide knew he was wondering how they'd all missed this, and Kelly wished he had an answer, an explanation to allay the Chief's concerns… but he truly did have no idea what was going on.

It wasn't like he and Casey ever really spoke outside of work, but still… He couldn't help but frown, looking over to his fellow lieutenant. How long had this thing between Casey and Dawson been going on right under all of their noses? How was it that _none _of them knew? None of them had even _noticed_? How had he, Severide, been ignorant so long? He was those two nearly every single day.

And then it hit him. He was stationed in a firehouse filled with men. Men who had a taxing job to do for twenty-four hours straight every few days, and another job on the side, on their days off, that they had to show up for. These men had families and wives and lives outside of the firehouse. These men had numerous other things to pay attention to besides a workplace romance unfolding a room or two away. And he was one of those men. He, and the rest of them, simply had better things to do than observe the nuances of Casey and Dawson's friendship-turned-romance as it progressed. In all honesty, he simply didn't care, and he knew that would hold true for the rest of the firehouse.

He and the rest all had other things to worry about—jobs and finances, children and wives… The only person that would've alerted any of them to the relationship was Casey himself, and being the extremely private person he was, it made sense that he wouldn't tell anyone. And the only person Dawson would've told…

It hit him like a ton of bricks, and the squad lieutenant smiled as he called for the Chief. Boden's eyes snapped back to him immediately. "I think I have an idea of who knows."

"You do?" Boden's gaze, while still a bit skeptical, narrowed with interest. "Who?"

"Don't worry about Casey and Dawson," Severide grinned, clapping his boss on the shoulder. "Shay will clear up everything."

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"What do you mean you don't know anything?" Kelly demanded, dumbstruck. Shay had to know. Shay always knew everything. _How could Shay not know?_ "Didn't—Didn't Dawson tell you about Casey?"

Shay snorted, shaking her head. "She told me he was still in love with Hallie this afternoon, but she didn't say much more than that."

Severide frowned, staring incredulously at his best friend. "In love with Hallie? What are you talking about?"

Shay shrugged. "What do you mean? He was engaged to the woman. He's supposed to be in love with her."

"Yeah, but, Shay—"

"Look, Kelly, I'm just repeating what Gaby told me this afternoon: they went to her cousin's Christmas party together, and nothing good happened."

"Define nothing good."

"Oh, I don't know, Kelly!" Shay exclaimed angrily. "I have no idea! She didn't tell me. She wouldn't talk about it; that's how bad it was! She just said that Casey was still into Hallie and then called herself an idiot. That was it."

"But he isn't in love with Hallie."

Shay sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "Okay, Mr. Love Doctor, tell me how you know that."

Severide stared at her as if she were crazy. "Are you kidding me? Have you seen him recently?"

A nervous laugh escaped Shay's mouth before she could hold it in. "You're not—You're not saying—" She broke off, grinning. "Kelly, come on. You're not saying that he's—_in love with_ _her_, are you? Because Kelly, Gaby told me to my face that she knew he wanted Hallie instead." The smile fell of Leslie's face as she looked at the floor. "I know she was trying to act like it didn't matter," she muttered, "but I could see she was really broken up about it."

Shay fell silent then, and didn't elaborate. There was no point in telling Kelly that he had it all backwards—that it was _Gaby _that was in love with Casey, not the other way around. It had been that way for years now, and Shay knew better than to break the trust Gabriela had inadvertently put in Shay just by their close proximity. If Kelly couldn't figure out what was happening here on his own, then he didn't deserve to know in the first place.

"Yeah, well…" Severide scratched his head. "You know, he's pretty broken up, too."

Shay shook her head, scowling as she met Kelly's eyes again. "He's just feeling guilty about last night."

Severide shook his head. "It's more than that, Shay."

"Oh?" Shay questioned condescendingly. "Really, Kelly? And how do you know that? Are you two suddenly BFFs?"

"I know it because I have _eyes_," Severide shot back. "I've looked at him—haven't you? Didn't you see him sitting there? He looks like she's already been declared dea—"

"Wait," Shay cut in, holding up her hands. "See him sitting where? Casey's here? Where?"

Without a word, Severide left the entryway they'd been conversing in and headed down towards the ORs. He walked so purposefully that he nearly looked like he belonged (minus the white coat, scrubs, and stethoscope) and thankfully no one stopped them. Kelly guessed it was a busy day for surgeries, for when they made it to the OR hallway, it was nearly deserted. Just as they were approaching it, Kelly tugged on Shay's arm to hold her back. He pointed down the hallway. "There."

"What?" Shay asked immediately, scanning the upper part of the hallway. "Where—?" Her eyes fell to the floor. "Oh, god…" The words escaped in the softest whisper; the sight of Casey hunched over the floor had completely stolen her breath.

"Are you still going to keep trying to tell me this is all about him feeling guilty for some stupid spat at a Christmas party?" Kelly murmured quietly to her.

Slowly, Shay shook her head. She wanted to look Kelly in the eye and tell him he was right—that Casey _was _into Gaby, and that he… he probably cared for her very much, too—but she couldn't tear her eyes off of the man sitting on the floor. She had never—not once—seen Lieutenant Casey look like this. His body seemed to have caved in on itself; his knees were pressed up against his chest and his back was bent as he held his head in his hands.

Shay could feel her heart rate increase just staring at him. She'd been to hundreds of crime and accident scenes, but she'd never seen something like this. She'd never seen someone look so devastated, so hopeless, even when the end was coming…

She stared at him with wide eyes as his hands parted around his face. His fingers rubbed at his eyes, which Shay could spot as being red and irritated even from this distance. She resisted the urge to run forward and hug him—an urge she'd never felt in her entire life towards the truck lieutenant. She and Matthew Casey had never been friends—rarely were they anything more than polite coworkers (and sometimes not even that)—but right now, she knew exactly what he was going through and she wanted to help him however she could.

Without saying a word to Severide, Leslie made up her mind. She could hear him hissing at her to come back as she stepped away, but she ignored him. Kelly liked Dawson well enough, sure, but Shay knew he didn't understand what her being in mortal danger meant the same way she did. The same way Casey, it seemed, did. Severide was still calling after her as she made her way down the hallway, but as she neared Casey, his voice seemed to disappear. She didn't know if Kelly's voice had faded to the background or he had simply stopped talking, but it didn't really matter. She looked down at Casey sitting on the floor, and she knew all that mattered was that she helped him through this. That they helped each other through this.

"Do you mind if I sit?" She kept her voice quiet and soft, but still, he jumped when he heard her. He craned his neck, looking up at her, and she saw the fear enter his eyes for a moment. She gave him the biggest smile she could manage, which turned out to be incredibly small, and tried to tell him with her eyes that she was a friend in this instance. She supposed the grimace that appeared on his face was supposed to be a returning smile, and she welcomed it.

"Go ahead," he muttered, and even in those few words, she could hear how hoarse his voice had gotten. She suddenly wondered how long he'd been crying. His eyes looked even redder up close. When she snuck a look at his face, though, she found it conspicuously dry. She wondered how many times he'd rubbed his eyes raw today, clearing them of tears before they had had a chance to fall. Leslie Shay knew from experience that it was much more difficult to hold back tears than to just let them go.

She wracked her brain, but she couldn't find the words to tell Casey that it was okay to cry. It would be understandable, she wanted to say. They all cared about Dawson. Crying was natural. No one would think any less of him. She wouldn't care. No one would care. _It was okay._

All those phrases floated through her mind, swirled in her mouth, but Shay couldn't manage to make her mouth move. Instead of consoling him as she knew she should, she ended up simply keeping him company for the next few hours. She sat by his side, both their backs aching as they leaned against the hard, pale white wall. Neither Casey nor Shay said a word, and no one ever said a word to them, either. Shay knew Kelly and Boden were probably spying on them from the ends of the hallway, but she didn't care enough to look over. All she could think about was the fact that Dawson was on the other side of the wall they were leaning against, very possibly fighting for her life. No one had been sent out with an update, and Shay knew that that was a bad sign. It meant the surgeons couldn't spare even the most inexperienced hands just for a few short minutes.

She tried not to think about Dawson's surgery too often, because it made her chest tight and her breathing shallow. She wished she had the ability to shut off her mind, but it was impossible. And even though she would rather think about _anything _else, all her mind was able to think about was Gabriela. She relieved their workdays, their days off; her mind ran through their friendship over and over and over again.

After a while, when her mind had grown so tired that she couldn't think much anymore, she found herself idyll wondering what Casey was thinking about. She knew he had to be thinking about Dawson, too, but what? Was he thinking about when they'd met? Or the first call they'd gone on together? Was he still worrying about whatever he'd done to upset Gabriela last night? Shay wished she was capable of reaching over and telling him it was okay. Dawson would forgive him. She had to, after how clearly he was showing that he cared about her now. One mistake wouldn't matter to her once she saw how staunchly he stood by her side now.

Shay shut her eyes, mystified. How could Gabriela have ever thought Casey wasn't interested in her? What could he have done that made her think that he didn't want her, didn't care for her, didn't…

Shay opened her eyes, and in a moment of silent bravery, she reached over and took Casey's hand. She could sense him stiffen at her side; she could feel the muscles in his palm go rigid in surprise and most likely disapproval at her touch, but she didn't let go. She swallowed, doing away with her fear for a moment, and looked over at him. He was staring down at their hands; she shifted her fingers so that they fell in line in between Casey's. He didn't protest.

Shay continued staring at him, but after a few seconds, it was clear he wasn't going to look up and meet her eyes. He was still staring down at their hands with an intensity she had rarely seen him exude.

Quietly, her voice shaky and still raw from all the tears she'd cried earlier, she whispered, "She'll be okay, Casey."

He nodded once. Twice. Three times. He didn't stop nodding; he kept going and going, and somewhere between the tenth and twentieth jerk of his head, he finally let go.

Shay had had all those words prepared to help him along. She was going to tell him it was okay to cry, that it was natural, that no one would judge him and no one would care… But now that there were real, actual tears on his face, she had no idea what to say. For a long minute, she just watched him as he stared straight ahead and cried. He didn't make a single sound, but still the tears kept coming. They cascaded down his face in a nearly endless stream, but not a single sound accompanied the breaking of the damn. Shay wondered privately when and where he had learned to cry so intensely without making even the smallest noise, but then she remembered what little she'd heard of his parents, and she realized maybe perfect Lieutenant Matthew Casey was just as fucked up as the rest of them…

And so she held his hand and let him cry and she didn't say a word. When he finally stopped—or tired himself out—she whispered again, just as softly as before: "She'll be okay, Casey."

Again, he didn't reply.

But a minute or so later, Shay felt a light squeeze on her right hand. Her eyes flew to Casey's, but he wasn't looking at her. His head was tilted back against the wall and he was using his free hand to wipe his bloodshot eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. It was just as Shay was about to look back down again when he caught her eye.

He held her gaze for a short moment—just a few seconds—but in those few seconds, he managed to whisper, in a raspy but grateful voice, "Thank you, Shay."

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_"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love."_

—_Washington Irving_

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_Author's Note: Detailed, informative reviews (whether positive or negative) would be INCREDIBLY appreciated. I would LOVE to hear from more of you. Thank you for reading._

_(If any of you have watched Criminal Minds, that's where I got the Washington Irving quote from.)_


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